Brothers
by LuckyJim
Summary: Basch, Balthier, and too much wine in Balfonheim after the events of Draklor Laboratory. 'Lying is a pirate's privilege, not a knight's. I can tell you came here to forget. Desperation clings to you like a woman after love-making.'


**Brothers**

Basch takes a gulp from his glass and grimaces. _Pirates' drink_, he scolds. Basch long held their sort in contempt and shun their contact. Neither the cold, fresh breeze of the Balfonheim sea, nor the taste of salt and algae in the air could remove their stench. These were men without country, he reproached; these were men who forsake their ancestral ties and tore up their roots for the cheap thrills of profit, adventure, and bitter ale. And though they spoke of freedom, of a yearning to move about, unfettered and unanchored, Basch retorted harshly that only a life without shame could be a life of freedom. Yet, as he takes in the odd mingling of races and nationalities in the Balfonheim's tavern and spies golden-haired pirates –_Landis expatriates_- hidden amongst the towering, tan Rozzarians and the slender, sandy Dalmascans, he reflects that escape can be a betrayal, but that it can also be hope. The sound of -_breathing_ - big, hearty, belly laughs and the sight of –_warm, alive_- coarse, blackened nails digging eagerly into lard and chicken grant him tranquility at last.

'AhCaptain! Aren't you just overjoyed to see me?'

Basch turns his head and meets the faltering sight of Balthier. His eyes are bloodshot and the lace on his sleeves' cuff has turned burgundy, soiled by bhurjerban maddhu. He frowns.

'Relent. I am not inebriated. I have not submitted to the spell, though I am liable to weaken.'

He sits down soundly, attempts to rearrange his cuffs – 'a pity' -, and casts an ironical glance at Basch.

'When I converse with you, I fear I live by too many words.' A harsh laugh. 'Pray, what are you doing here alone?'

'Finding repose from the tiredness', Basch responds quietly. If he is grateful for the sky pirate's help, the former has yet to earn his trust. Basch has learned to value steadiness as the true test of character and he fears that Balthier is a fugitive at heart. As such, he is as cautious around him as if he were on a sentinel mission.

'Lying is a pirate's privilege, not a knight's. I can tell you came here to forget. Desperation clings to you like a woman after love-making.'

'I do not wish to forget Balthier.' _I only wish to forgive_.

Balthier's mouth is cruel as he leans forward. 'If you're in such luck, you old fool, why do you drink?'

From this close distance, Bach can smell the pirate's stale breath and his perspiration. 'I'm thirsty'.

'You damn liar.' Basch stiffens. 'There _must_ be something – how could there not be when Death's claw has disfigured you?'

Basch thinks of soft, slender fingers caressing his scar, of legs intertwined with his own, of an imperious voice reduced to grotesque sobs, begging for forgiveness after Vossler's betrayal and can imagine fates more insufferable.

'I had many scars before, some even worse.'

The Archadian's smile is strained. 'You are either very wise or very foolish.'

'My imprisonment did not break me. It did not cripple me. My spirit and will stayed untamed.' Basch considers other paths he could have followed – _Vossler's, Gabranth's _– and is thankful that his never deviated. 'There are costs we must endure to remain free and I bore them.'

'Indeed! You were the freer prisoner I ever witnessed chained, beaten, and submitted to another's will!'

Balthier's handsome features are distorted and dolorous, his breath is heavy and uneven, he is slumped on his chair like a sack of flour. Basch observes him carefully. He is torn between feelings of compassion and contempt and he is insure whether he intents his next words to be kind or hurtful.

'There is more to freedom than the ability to flee.'

Balthier's long, bitter laugh resonates in the tavern like an echo within a long tunnel. Customers throw glances at their table worryingly , and Basch fears that the elegant dandy facade has been shelved to reveal a madman.

'You speak of freedom, yet it seems to me all you gained are merely delusions Captain for there can be no freedom where there are memories. They are more binding than the most resilient chains. And how soon their pungent smell pervades all senses! They leave a rancid and bitter taste in your mouth and no amount of water – or wine, it appears– can get rid of it. You can try to conceal their unpleasant stench, hide them beneath cheap perfumes and alcoholic breath, but they follow you.'

Balthier stares at him with longing in his gaze. Basch is disappointed that the pirate expects such commiseration from him. _Is that why you wanted me to suffer? Were you seeking a companionship?_

'You are silent'. The pirate's voice is a challenge. 'You resent these confessions. You are wise – but I, I cannot be. I need –' The words remain unspoken and Basch is glad Balthier is still sober enough not to abase himself to that extent.

'I thought I could run away from it all. I marvelled at the blast of an airship's whistle, at the sound of engines warming up. Futile, foolhardy plan! I traveled to every corner of the world, but my capacity for self-delusion was boundless.' Balthier lets out a heavy breath. 'Time is not a straight line, but a merciless loop. It goes back and forth, knowing no interruption, and you are left to wonder at its meaning. When you believe you've escaped, it is there at the next corner, it grabs you by the throat… I, _we_, can't free ourselves from its despotic grasp, it is always present, prepared to crush us in its lethal embrace.'

'You are a prisoner of your obsessions Balthier. I do not possess the inclination to join you in this infernal dance. There are too many steps for my liking.'

'You would lack the grace Captain.'

Basch sees nothing graceful in blood-shot eyes, soiled cuffs, and a reddened, sweaty brow. _Aren't you in need of another set of clothes pirate?_ he thinks cruelly. He gets up. Balthier grabs his arm, eyes alarmed.

'Stay. I can't be left alone. I need someone.'

Basch remembers eyes – _Noah's_ –once – _long, long ago -_ when he broke his right arm – _far, far away_ -after a fall from a two-story house. _Don't leave me_, they had pleaded. _Take me home_, they had begged. Basch averts Balthier's stare, knowing the pirate is not a man to forgive pity, especially when it is not directed at him.

'Then why not choose your own kin? Why not choose Fran or Reddas? Why do you need me?' _Have you no shame?_

'I need a brother.'

Basch's heart thumps and he wonders if it's another of Balthier's lies. His fists tighten and he must refrain the urge to strike the pirate, to strike him for saying the words that he longed to hear, but alas, from another.

_Damn you, you cunning thief! _

Still he nods and he can hear himself prmises he will stay. Balthier, eyes haggard, does not relent his grasp until he is seated.

'Maybe it would be time, for both of us, to return to the others.' Basch asks tentatively. He wonders to whom his next plea is destined : 'To return home.'

'Home?', Balthier snorts and Basch sulkily realizes that the recovery – _of us both?_ - is far remote and this is only the beginning.

'You, my friend, have quite an understated sense of humour.'


End file.
